


The Lesson

by Juliet_the_Infinite



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Come Swallowing, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hair-pulling, Masturbation, Naked Female Clothed Male, Possessive Arthur, Prostitution, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-12 20:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16878615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juliet_the_Infinite/pseuds/Juliet_the_Infinite
Summary: You're relatively new to the world of prostitution, and there's something you're reluctant to do, but the madam you work for insists you add it to your repertoire...and she has a very special client for you to practice on.





	1. Chapter 1

"I want a goddamn refund!"

You and Violet, pressing your ears to the door, pull away and look at each other in horror.

"Oh, you are in for it now!" Violet whispers. "Madam is going to be so angry!"

"I don't care," you say, your defiant tone masking how you really feel. "I don't want to do it and I'm not going to!"

"While I admire your guts, I don't think Madam is going to feel the same way at all."

You sigh. "Well, I think I hear her stomping up the stairs, so I guess we'll find out in a minute. Better get away from the door."

Quickly, you both rush to your bed, and Violet pulls a magazine out from under the mattress and you move closer to her, pretending to read over her shoulder.

The door slams open. "Violet, out!" Madam barks, and Violet instantly leaps from the bed. Making sure to turn her face away so Madam can't see, she mouths "sorry" and scurries out the door.

"Sit up," Madam says, and you comply. "Would you mind telling me why I just had to give a customer a...a REFUND?" she asks, her tone so frosty you could swear the windows iced over.

"Madam, he wanted to do something I didn't want to do and---"

Madam laughs. "This is a whorehouse, dear girl! You knew exactly what you would be expected to do when you came here. I told you from the very start there were only a few acts you would never be expected to perform, and that is certainly not one of them. It's one of our most popular menu items, after all."

"But he smelled bad," you sulk.

"Then wash him! What do you think that basin and pitcher of water on your bedside table are for?"

"And he was ugly too! I can't wash away ugly!"

"Did you think you would have a steady stream of dashing young men walking in here paying for your services? No! More often than not, our clients are working men, and sometimes they will be old, and sometimes they will be ugly, and sometimes they will smell bad, and sometimes they will be all three. But their money is just as good as that of a sweet-smelling dandy, and you will treat them with the same respect."

"But---"

"Do you remember..." Madam begins, walking over and sitting down on the bed. She pauses for a moment, then meets your eyes. "Do you remember when you came here, desperate and near to starving, begging for money to pay your family's debts, and to buy medicine for your sick sister? Who sent five hundred dollars and a doctor straight to your house?"

"You did, Madam."

"And do you think it was out of the goodness of my heart? Out of a sense of Christian duty?"

You get the feeling it would be better not to answer either one of those questions.

"No, it was because I could tell you would quickly become one of my top earners, as pretty as you are...and quite charming, too, when you want to be. And I am very fond of you, to be perfectly candid. But do not mistake my affection for weakness; I will not hesitate to put you back on the street and send Boris to your family's house to get my money back."

You think of the hulking man who, along with his equally massive brother Ivan, serves as security for the whorehouse, and imagine for a moment how your father and brother would be compelled by honor to stand up to him...a fight they would surely lose.

"I understand, Madam," you say, and you bite your lip, hoping to stave off tears.

Madam sighs and puts a hand on your cheek. "Dear girl, I know this is not how you saw yourself ending up. It does not have to be forever. You could run your own bawdy house someday, or get married...but for now you are here, and you must pay me back three times over before I will even consider letting you go. I advise you to make the best of your time here. You are well fed, you have shelter, you have pretty clothes, you and Violet have become dear friends, and you know that Boris and Ivan will protect you from the worst of the lot that stumble in here. And if all you have to do is spread your legs and open your mouth several times a day, well...it seems a small price to pay, really."

"Yes, Madam."

"Now!" she says, clapping her hands together. "In regards to that latter issue, I have an idea. There is a customer I would like to keep quite happy, as he runs with a particular group of men who run all manner of schemes, so they must have money to burn. He is rather handsome, and I have noticed no disagreeable odors about his person, so he might be a good fellow to practice on. I shall tell him you are new to this particular act, and need experience, and if I offer him a discount I should think he would be more than happy to be your tutor. I feel this is more of a concession than you probably deserve, considering what just happened, but as I said I am fond of you and I think this arrangement will please all parties. The next time he comes in, I'll see what he has to say."

"What is his name, Madam?"

She smiles. "Arthur Morgan, of the van der Linde gang."


	2. Chapter 2

Three days after your lecture from Madam, you are standing in the saloon, leaning against the bar and laughing with Violet.

"Violet, you cannot be serious!"

"I'm telling you true! When he took down his trousers, he---"

Madam's voice stops your conversation cold. "Girls, at attention!"

Reluctantly, you push yourself away from the bar and turn around. Standing next to Madam are two men, one barely out of his teens and looking so nervous you think he'll flee at any second, and the other an older man, twin pistols at his sides.

"Girls, may I present Mr. Jeremiah Davis and Mr. Arthur Morgan."

Upon hearing the name, you cannot help but shoot a startled glance at the older man. Madam had not lied; he was certainly handsome. This was the man who would teach you how to perform? You still didn't care to do it, but you had to admit your teacher was quite attractive.

"Ahem. Girls?" Madam says pointedly, and you and Violet execute a quick curtsy.

"Hello, gentlemen," Violet says. "Welcome to Madam Beauregard's House of Flowers. I am Violet, and I am very pleased to meet you."

You can't stop staring at Arthur. He looks away from Violet and raises an eyebrow; blushing, you turn your attention to the younger man.

"Mr. Davis, Mr. Morgan...welcome to our establishment. You may call me Lily," you say, using the name Madam gave you when you came to work for her. You prefer your real name, but it could have been worse; the girl after you was dubbed Hyacinth.

"I want to be with YOU for my first time!" Jeremiah blurts out, turning scarlet. Arthur begins laughing, and you and Violet hide your faces behind your fans to hide your smiles.

"Easy there, boy, don't shoot your load before you've even gotten in the bedroom," Arthur says, patting Jeremiah's shoulder.

"I am terribly sorry, Mr. Davis, but for your first time, I would recommend Violet. She is quite patient and gifted, but Lily still has much to learn."

"Um, er...yes, I would be grateful to you, Miss Violet," Jeremiah says. She smiles and holds out her hand, leading him upstairs to the bedrooms. Arthur watches them go, and then turns to Madam.

"So what you're saying is I don't get a choice?"

"Mr. Morgan, of course you always have a choice here, and one of our other girls should be available within the next twenty minutes or so if you prefer to wait. However, I have a proposition that I think you will find most interesting. Would you and Lily accompany me to my parlor, please? And, as usual, I must ask that you leave your weapons with Boris. They will be perfectly safe." Arthur grumbles, but unstraps his holster and hands it to Boris.

"Thank you ever so much. Lily, please take a decanter of our finest whiskey and three glasses from the bar and let's all go in the back."

You do as requested and follow Madam and Arthur to the parlor. Madam settles herself down on a purple fainting couch and snaps her fingers at you. Quickly, you pour the whiskey and serve Madam and Arthur before taking a sip yourself, wincing at the burn as it slides down your throat.

"Now what's this proposition you got for me?" Arthur says, sitting down in a chair that's a bit too small for him. He shifts his weight uncomfortably, and you snicker. He looks at you through narrow eyes, and you immediately stop laughing and sit down next to Madam, folding your hands primly in your lap.

"Mr. Morgan, I will be perfectly frank with you...which I'm assuming you don't mind?"

He laughs. "I'm in a bordello, so I wasn't expecting church talk."

"Good, then I shall speak plainly. Lily, as you can see, is a young woman of uncommon beauty. She is also very smart, and can be extremely witty and charming."

"You're selling her a bit hard, so there's gotta be a problem somewhere. Is she...does she...well, is she healthy?"

"Oh yes, yes, Mr. Morgan! Like all of our girls, she is checked monthly by our in-house doctor, and she is in perfect health. She does not have, nor has she ever had, any afflictions of Venus. Why, she never even seems to get a cold!"

Arthur finishes his whiskey and holds out his glass towards you. You immediately stand and pour him another with shaking hands.

"So...?"

"Lily hasn't been here very long, but she has proven herself to be talented with her cunny and her hands. Her mouth, on the other hand, remains a problem. She flat out refuses to take a man in her mouth, which is not a desirable quality in a prostitute. She needs training, and as you are one of our regular clients, and the other girls have never had any complaints about you---why, I am half convinced Daisy is in love with you!---I am giving you the option to be her first client in that way, and to teach her how to do it properly, so that she can be a fully fledged employee of my House of Flowers."

Arthur leans back, an amused smirk on his face. "So you want ME to pay to teach one of your girls how to suck cock?"

"I, er...well, yes, basically."

"I don't know," Arthur says. "Gotta admit it makes me a bit nervous to be the first man she's ever done that to, if she doesn't know what the hell she's doing. Don't get me wrong, I would very much like to bury myself inside that pretty mouth, but I also don't want to get bit."

"I would not bite you!" you cry out, standing up and kneeling in front of him. "Mr. Morgan, I will admit that I am not experienced in that way, and it is something I do not wish to do---"

"Lily!" Madam snaps, but Arthur holds up a hand.

"I want to hear this."

"Mr. Morgan, I do not wish to do it, but I also did not wish to ride a horse for the first time, and now it is one of my greatest pleasures. I think my reluctance is mostly due to fear. But I know it is something I must do if I wish to continue working here, and if I must do it, I would rather it be with you than some ugly old man."

Arthur laughs. "Well, I guess I will take that as a compliment." He turns his attention to Madam. "So, aside from the obvious, what's in it for me?"

"Mr. Morgan, I would be delighted to offer you this service for half price!"

"That don't seem right. I wouldn't buy a horse without knowing it was a good ride first."

You've never seen Madam flustered before, and you have to admit you're enjoying it. "I...er...how about half off today, and your next visit as well?"

Arthur stands and plucks the bottle of whiskey from the table. "Throw this in and we got a deal."

"Yes, yes, Mr. Morgan! Thank you so much!" Madam shakes his hand, and Arthur reaches down to help you up.

"All right, Lily, lead the way," he says, and you take him down the hall and to your room. After the door closes, he casts a quick glance around at the small space you call home, and then his pale blue eyes meet yours and you clutch the sides of your skirt to stop their trembling. He smiles.

"Let's begin."


	3. Chapter 3

You summon up your courage. "Tell me what you want me to do, Mr. Morgan."

"Well, first of all, I want to make something real clear. I ain't gonna hurt you, and I ain't gonna force you to do anything, so if this arrangement don't suit you, then say something now."

"No, I...as I said, I need to learn how to do this if I'm going to work here, and Madam speaks highly of you. I would like you to be the one to teach me. Please."

"Okay, then, I just wanted to make sure." Arthur rubs his chin, looking at you. "First of all, I need to get my blood up. I want you to take off your clothes, and slowly."

You unlace your corset with shaky fingers, letting your breasts fall free.

"Oh, those are real nice," Arthur drawls. "Smaller than I woulda thought, but I guess that contraption pushed them up a bit. I ain't complaining, though...they're beautiful little things." He steps closer, and you instinctively step back.

"Now what did I say? I ain't gonna hurt you. I just want a better look." Arthur cups your breasts in his hands, sliding his thumbs inwards to glance off your nipples, and you shudder as they perk up.

"And the skirt."

You reach back and untie it, letting it fall in a puddle around your feet.

"The knickers...no, wait, I think I'd like to take those off myself." Arthur reaches between your legs and hooks his finger underneath the elastic, tearing them from your body. You squawk in protest, and he flings them off to the side. "Tell Madam to put those on my bill." His eyes go straight between your legs, and he smiles. "I need a closer look at that too. Lie down on the bed. No, leave the stockings on," he says as you begin to roll them down. "Always liked the way silk feels against my skin."

Inhaling deeply, you lie down, and he puts his hands on your knees and pries them apart. "Oh, that's lovely," he says, so close to your sex that you can feel his breath stirring the damp curls there. "I bet none of your customers even bother to look at what they're plowing, do they?"

"No, not usually...Mr. Morgan."

"Arthur." He cups your mound in one hand and slides two thick fingers inside of you, causing your core to involuntarily contract. You feel a trickle of moisture sliding out from inside of you.

"Look at how wet you're getting. My oh my. You want me to fuck that tight little hole, don't you?"

It is a question many clients have asked, in a variety of different ways, but this is the first time you have ever answered honestly. "Y-yes, Mr. Morgan...Arthur."

He tilts his head. "Yes what?"

"Yes...I want you to fuck my tight little hole."

"With?"

"With your cock."

"Well, that surely does sound like a fine way to spend an evening, and I would dearly love to fuck that beautiful little cunt, but I made a promise, and today I'm going to fuck that beautiful little mouth." He smirks. "The OTHER mouth." He pulls his fingers out, gives your clit a playful pinch, and traces his wet fingers around your mouth as if he were applying your lipstick. "Have you ever tasted yourself before?"

"No." You squeeze your legs together as another rivulet dampens the sheet beneath you.

"Open your legs, I ain't done looking at your pretty cunt."

"Yes, sir."

"What do you taste like? Lick your lips for me."

You obey. "I...when we lived in California, we would go to the ocean sometimes, and I...I taste like the ocean."

Arthur sticks his fingers in his mouth, never taking his eyes from yours. He removes them and says, "Well, I ain't never been to the ocean, but if it tastes like that, I think I ought to go."

You cannot stop yourself. "Please fuck me."

"No."

"Please!"

"I told you already, I ain't here for that today. Pains me to say it, looking at your dripping cunt and imagining how it would feel gripping my cock. Tell you what, though, if you need to frig yourself while you suck me off, I don't have a problem with that."

"Yes, Arthur."

He takes another look between your legs and shakes his head. "Goddamn it, I want to be in there. I ain't a young man anymore, else I'd probably be able to do that too, but that ain't gonna happen, I fear. Still, I do believe my blood is more than up now, and I'm ready. Are you?"

You sit up. "Yes."

"Now, here's the thing. We can do this easy, or we can do this rough. I ain't gonna pretend I know what life is like for you here, but I know how the average man gets in a place like this, and is it safe to say most of them ain't real easy on you?"

"That is accurate, yes."

"So if you want me to be gentle, I will. Or if you want me to be a bit rougher on you, get used to the way some fellas act, then I'll do that instead. I know you don't got much choice around here, but this one is yours."

Your eyes stray to the bulge straining against the front of his pants, then back up to meet his gaze. "The...the second."

"Use your words, girl. I need to hear it before I do it." He stands up and walks to the table where he left the whiskey. He takes a long pull straight from the bottle, never taking his eyes from yours. 

You raise yourself up on your knees. "Go rough on me, Mr. Morgan, sir. Fuck my mouth as hard as you want. I want you to spend yourself inside my mouth and I will swallow every drop if that is your wish. Be the first one to fuck my mouth, so I will always remember that you are the one who truly made me a whore."

Arthur throws the bottle to the side, where it shatters. "I can't take this no more! Get over here now."


	4. Chapter 4

Standing on legs as shaky as a newborn foal's, you rise from the bed and stumble over to Arthur. He catches you tightly around the waist and pulls you in, kissing you so roughly you can feel your lips starting to swell almost immediately. His tongue slides into your mouth, over your teeth, until you get the hint and open up, letting him explore until he pulls away again.

He presses his lips to your ear. "Liked what you said just now," he breathes, sharply nipping at your lobe. "You gonna be my little whore?"

"Yes, Arthur."

"You gonna let me fuck that beautiful mouth?"

"God...yes, please." 

The thing you have feared is now the thing you want most of all.

His hand gropes around between your legs and comes back up, his fingers webbed with juices. "You're so wet for me. That's making me feel real good, but I think I could feel even better. Get on your knees."

You hesitate for a second, and Arthur puts his hands on your shoulders and pushes you down. "I ain't playing with you, girl. You said you wanted it rough and that's how I'm gonna make it." He fumbles at his belt, pulling it free and unzipping his pants. "I'm gonna leave these on...something about that gets me hard enough to cut glass." He pulls his engorged cock out from the fly and you stare at it. It's not the biggest you've seen in your line of work, but it's damn close.

"Now here's what you're gonna do. First of all...wait, I got an idea." He nimbly steps around you and goes to the full length mirror standing in the corner. He picks it up and puts it several feet behind you before returning to his place in front of you. "This way I got a look at both sides while you're sucking me off. Can't imagine I'd get tired of the view up front, but I wouldn't mind taking a look at the back every now and again."

"Yes, Arthur."

"Gonna be a miracle if I don't shoot off before I even get your mouth around me," he mutters. Shaking his head as if to dispel a dream, he says, "Okay, now take my cock in your hand and get a good feel of it."

Could a man's cock be properly described as beautiful? You're sure that Arthur wouldn't much care for the description, but it's really the only adjective you can think of. You think about a cigarette card you once saw of a famous statue in Italy. You take it in your hand and cannot close your fingers all the way around it, the velvety soft skin belying the steel beneath. A clear pearl of moisture appears at the tip. "Lick that away."

You sit back on your haunches, and he raises an eyebrow. "What happened to you wanting me to shoot my load down your throat? I said lick that away. I tasted your cunt off my fingers, it's all of a piece."

You lean back in and dart your tongue out, swiping it away. You close your eyes and take a moment to get used to its salty flavor. 

"The main course is basically going to taste like that, just a whole lot more of it." 

"Yes, Arthur."

"Listen carefully, 'cause here's what I want you to do next. Take just the head of my cock into your mouth and suckle at it a bit."

You inhale deeply, close your eyes, and do as he commands. It is soft as suede, and you lick the slit. He moans and you feel his hands tangle up in your hair, and then he grabs the back of your head and rams his cock down your throat as far as he can.

Your eyes fly open, and you look up at him, tears pouring down your face. You begin to gag, and he says, "Easy, easy...breathe through your nose, take a moment to get used to it, I ain't gonna let you choke."

You swallow hard, instinctively, feeling your throat muscles constrict against the length of him. A stream of saliva begins pouring out of the corner of your mouth.

"You okay?"

You nod.

"I'm gonna start thrusting now. Just keep breathing through your nose."

As he thrusts deep into your throat, you cannot help yourself. You dig your fingernails into his bare thighs.

"My sweet little kitten has claws! Lucky for you, I like that a lot." His hands twine tighter through your hair, giving it a tug just at the threshold of painful. "Look into my eyes while I take my pleasure of you."

You look up into those clear blue eyes, and you are not sure what you're reading there, but you will not break your gaze. 

"You are so fucking beautiful," he gasps. "I can't even tell you what it feels like to be inside your mouth right now."

Taking a gamble, you brace yourself against his hips and pull away. He opens his mouth as though to reprimand you, but you say, "Tell me what you're seeing in the mirror," and quickly devour him again. You arch your back and slide your knees apart, pushing your right hand between your legs and frantically rubbing your clit.

"My god, you're going to kill me! Those stockings are perfectly framing your ass and I can see what you're doing, frigging that tight little cunt with your fingers. You naughty girl, I can't..."

His fingers pull the bobby pins in your hair free, and they clatter to the floor. He continues thrusting into your throat, and you make mewling little cries as he does, and then you feel him pulsing inside of your mouth and you think you will gag again but, as you promised, you swallow every drop, and you find your own release with your fingers. Arthur is panting heavily, his head thrown back against the wall, his eyes closed, and you are not sure what to do, so you wait. Finally, he seems to snap back to reality, and he says, "My good girl. You can stop now."

You pull away, and Arthur's rapidly softening cock slaps wetly against his thigh. He takes a deep breath and tucks it back into his pants. You hand him his belt, and with unsteady fingers, he clasps it back on. You stand and sit down on the edge of the bed, watching as he moves the mirror back into place. He smooths his hair down, straightens his shirt, and turns back to you.

"That was...well, goddamn, girl, I don't really have the words for it. You did a real good job."

"Thank you, Arthur."

"I'll be sure to tell Madam it went well. I think you got an idea what to do now." 

"Thank you for teaching me, Arthur."

He starts walking towards the door, but then he pauses and walks back to you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and puts his hand under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him.

"Be well," he says, and he leaves.

You sit for a moment, thinking upon what has just happened, feeling strangely bereft now that he's gone. But you are a professional, so you stand and go to the basin and wash your face and wipe down your thighs and between them. You start to get dressed, then decide you have earned the right to a little nap before your next client, so you clean up the broken bottle and the spilled whiskey, pull on your sleeping shift, and climb into bed.

* * * * *

"Lily."

You moan and pull the sheet over your head.

A hand grabs your shoulder. "Lily!"

You sit up, scrubbing at your eyes. "What?" you snap, and then you realize Madam is the one waking you up, and you flinch.

"I'm sorry, Madam, I was a bit tired and..."

"Get dressed and pack your things."

You're not sure you heard her right. "What?"

"You're done here."

You gasp, horrified. You don't want to work here, but you have nowhere else to go. "Madam, please! What did I do wrong? I did what you asked! Did Mr. Morgan say something?"

"He certainly did."

"Then what was the problem? Mr. Morgan seemed well pleased."

Madam smiles and shakes her head. "Mr. Morgan and I came to a very lucrative agreement."

"I---I don't understand."

She hands you something, and you blink hard to clear away the tears blurring your vision. "This is my contract."

"It's a useless piece of paper now. Mr. Morgan bought out your contract. I didn't want to let you go, but it turns out he can be a very persuasive man. You're his now, and he's waiting for you outside."

You leap to your feet and get dressed in record time, Madam watching you, the side of her mouth quirked in amusement. You cast a quick eye around the room and say, "I want nothing here."

"But your things---"

"Give them to Violet!" you call over your shoulder as you race down the stairs and through the swinging double doors.

Arthur is standing across the street, leaning against his horse. You stop in front of him, gasping; you're not used to such exertions. He lights a cigarette and watches you, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

"Mr. Morgan---"

"Arthur."

"Arthur. Why did you...?"

He takes a deep drag of his cigarette and blows out the smoke. "I ain't letting my hard work go to waste on nobody else. Just one thing, though, before we leave this goddamned place. Is Lily your real name?"

"No."

"What should I be calling you then?"

And you lean forward and tell him.


End file.
